It's Not Gay If It's In The Mojave
by BereniceSnape
Summary: Two fellas in the moonlight, fuckin'


Courier Six-otherwise known as Hammerhead Jim, on account of his beady shark eyes-had been thinking a lot lately. Ever since he had spied that hunk of a sexy sniper, Craig Boone, fucking that ham radio in the bathroom of their Novac hotel room, he had been feeling something. Something undefinable. Something tingly. Something most definitely horny.

The way Boone's gleaming twelve pack abs strained in the gleaming moonlight coming through the filthy window. The way he had seemed entirely emotionless, in a sexy way, through the black lenses of his aviator sunglasses. His beloved beret askew on his lovely and handsome bald dome. His gigantic fucking sniper rifle, if you get my drift. Even his concerning lack of pecs and nipples.

Jim had-shamefully, maybe-definitely jacked off to that in the moment. And many moments in the weeks after had been spent whacking the mole to this. Boone… so dominating. So broody. With all his dead wife trauma and repressed heterosexuality.

Jim looked at Boone, who was currently brooding sexily at the fire they sat around, probably thinking about shooting that sexy sexy sniper rifle and killing some legionaries. Or maybe his dead wife. Who cares? Not Jim.

"Boone," Jim finally said, looking into Craig's sunglasses that were currently reflecting flames, "have you ever had sex with a man?"

Boone grunted and muttered, "Manny. Many times over our service for the NCR. Two hot guys in the desert, just two men and their rifles. 's not gay in the Mojave."

Jim's heartbeat quickened. So he had a chance… "Well, Boone… we happen to be in the Mojave. Just two dudes being men, filthy and maybe a little randy, if you feel. Just two manly masculine fellas in the Mojave, who maybe need a little… dickening."

"Yeah," said Boone, thinking about it.

"All I'm saying is I could use a little of that government pork, Craig. A little ride on that NCR dong. Maybe get Booned down, if you're catching what I'm saying." Jim was sweating profusely at this point, praying Boone wouldn't shoot him for calling him Craig.

"What happens in the Mojave…" Boone mumbled, as he started taking his shirt off.

If Jim had been sweating profusely before, there could possibly be no words for how sweaty he was now, as Craig revealed his chiseled and hard sniper bod in the firelight. There were so many abs, and Jim had never been hornier in his life. "Double the abs, double the fun," as they say.

"Take off your clothes," Boone intoned in his sexy monotone, indicating in Jim's general direction as he flexed all twelve abs at once, generating a galloping noise.

Jim looked down coyly as he removed his prostitute outfit, which he had modded with absolutely useless shoulder pauldrons. First he removed his vest, then his spiked harness. He stretched his leg out sexily as he shimmied out of his boxer briefs, which snagged on his cowboy boots and ripped. Looking at Boone sheepishly, he removed his boots and tattered underpants, and laid out on the sand in the buff, his n*pples hard and ready like his PENGHIS which was also hot and ready like a Little Caesars® pepperoni pizza.

"Touch me, Boone," Jim begged, his beady eyes shimmering.

"Got it covered," grunted Boone softly, as he gently poked Jim's erect nip nops, which caused Jim to moan so loudly that the crows perched on the gas station awning let out croaks of startlement before flying off.

Boone and Jim began frenching passionately, their tongues entwined as Boone gently rubbed Jim's flanks like a startled horse.

Jim pulled back and smiled sexily as he went for Boone's enormous sniper tallywhacker. Boone stopped his hand, however.

"Don't be gay," Boone said, as he jacked Jim's meat like it was 2016 Survival on Subeta and he was stealing organs for the achievements. He was a grade-A meatjacker, too. A professional of purloining the flesh, as a matter of fact.

"Oh God, Boone, I need your sniper mojo!" Jim cried, too loud yet again.

"Eat this!" Boone said, taking his beloved beret off and shoving it into Jim's mouth. He then rooted around in his bag until he found an expired Nuka-Cola, which was incredibly syrupy and disgusting at this point. A real gentleman uses lube, after all.

Boone looked down at Jim, red beret sticking comically out of his mouth, and directed him to lay flat on his stomach. Jim quickly complied, getting a small amount of sand burn on his dick. After gently pouring the syrupy cola onto Jim's pouty booty hole, Boone gently lowered his meat in.

The beret was a boon, as it covered up Jim's loud moans. Soon, they were doing the do with great abandon. Boone tensed up suddenly, before continuing to fuck Jim with just the power of his powerful twelve pack abs. Without pulling out, and unbeknownst to Jim, Boone began setting up his sniper rifle.

There was a crunching sound from behind the looted-out car shell across the highway. Suddenly, bullets rang out with a cry of "AVE CAESAR!"

"OH FUCK OH SHIT I'M GONNA DIE!" Jim screamed into the hat, as he was plowed forward by a particularly hard ab-powered thrust.

Suddenly, he heard the distinctive sound of a bullet being chambered. He craned his head around at Boone, who was still leaned over his body, still going. But his hands were occupied by his prized sniper rifle, laying into the legionaries with his other big gun. Without breaking rhythm, or a sweat, Boone continued to fuck as he picked off Caesar's men one by one.

Boom. Headshot. Boom. Headshot. Wash, rinse, repeat.

"Fire in the hole!" Boone finally yelled as he shot the last remaining legionary, a Vulpes, in his ridiculously-hatted head and came simultaneously. Jim was so concurrently turned on and terrified that he couldn't stop himself from following his sexy, bald sniping man into paradise.

"OH GOD, BOONE!" Jim hollered, muffled by the beret, before collapsing in the sand and semen below him.

Boone rolled off of him, and poked him with his rifle.

"I'd really like my beret back, please."


End file.
